


we'll work on that

by mcfuck



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Attempted Murder, Child Death Mention, Father Figures, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pastfic, mentions of child abuse, prophetic nightmares ooooh, zul is like 7 in this and rasta isnt god king yet hes just a prince
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-10-28 23:59:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcfuck/pseuds/mcfuck
Summary: As always, Zul awakes screaming.





	1. was it a dream?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [my funny friend and me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16897281) by [Did](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Did/pseuds/Did). 

> "my funny friend and me" is a cute story about how young zul and rasta became friends; go check it out! this fic is set after Did's fic, and includes an oc they mentioned: prophet tal, their idea for the royal prophet that came before zul.
> 
> there's a very short but kinda gruesome description of violence, so i tagged it and rated teen just in case.
> 
> there will be a 2nd chapter and i'll change the tags accordingly.

_ The prince- _

_ An old, respected priest shuffling him away- _

_ Dark and damp- _

_ Rastakhan’s face, still softened and rounded out by youth, pale and drained of blood- _

_ His throat opened to the spine, the blood there thick and shiny- _

_ A ghost of terror on his dead face- _

As always, Zul awakes screaming.

Things are a little different now, though. The other children don’t shake him and shush him and smother him with their thin blankets. He’s picked up, gently, and cradled against someone’s warm body. It reminds Zul of the time he fell asleep on the doorstep of the inn at the docks, and the innkeeper carried him inside when it started to rain. Zul grabs onto their robe and _ clings _.

Prophet Tal is kind. Prophet Tal doesn’t box his ears when his nightmares- his _ visions _\- make him cry. Prophet Tal is warm, and his hair smells nice, and he holds Zul when he’s scared.

When Zul opens his eyes, he is no longer in his bed, and a candle is lit. Prophet Tal tilts Zul’s face up, scrubbing his damp cheeks with a soft cloth until Zul pushes him away.

“Did you have a vision?” asks Prophet Tal.

Zul nods.

“Was it scary?” he asks.

Zul nods.

A great big hand rests on top of Zul’s head, and Prophet Tal doesn’t even get mad when Zul leans into it. Zul wants Prophet Tal to hug him again, but he looks busy.

Tal pulls a notebook from beneath his pillow. Zul reaches for it, and Tal doesn’t stop him. The notebook is bound in very soft leather, and there’s bits of cold metal on the cover that glint in the candlelight.

“When I have visions,” Tal begins, “I write them down here. It be very important that I remember every detail.”

Zul nods.

“Can you tell me what you saw?”

Zul isn’t supposed to say no. He bows his head, and drops his ears low, and prays that Tal won’t hit him. He shakes his head.

When Prophet Tal raises his hand, Zul flinches. It rests gently on his shoulder. Zul looks up, confused, but finds no answers- Tal just looks sad. Did Zul make him sad?

“I’m sorry,” Zul whispers.

“No, no, it’s alright,” says Prophet Tal. “Did you forget your vision, or is it too scary to tell me?”

Ashamed, Zul flicks an ear.

“Both?” Tal suggests.

Zul nods.

“That’s okay,” says Prophet Tal. Suddenly, Zul can breathe. A huge weight lifts off his chest, like when one of the larger apprentices sits on him, and the Priestess shoves them off.

“We’ll work on that,” Tal reassures. Zul wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

Zul nods.

“Now,” says Tal, and Zul sits up a little straighter, in case Tal has an errand for him. “Do you think you can go back to sleep?”

Zul doesn’t want to cry, but fat tears well in his eyes anyway. He doesn’t want to be alone. Prophet Tal is warm, and his hair smells nice, and Zul is _ scared _ and wants to be held-

-Tal scrubs at Zul’s eyes with the handkerchief again.

“You can stay here,” Tal offers. Eyes wide and round and shiny as gold coins, Zul blinks at him. He can’t stay here. He has to go back to his bed, and sleep and rise with the others, and pray to one spirit while more whisper in his ears until his head hurts. He can’t stay here.

Tal opens his arms, and Zul clambers eagerly into the embrace. He can feel Tal’s great big hand on his back, and he can hear Tal blow out the candle. He can feel the softest blankets he’s ever touched, and he can hear Tal sigh as he lays down. Zul curls up against his chest.

Zul sleeps, and doesn’t dream.


	2. or a prophecy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the parentheses are zul's internal dialogue

Zul starts sleeping in Tal’s room every night. The nightmares don’t stop, they never stop, but it’s easier now. Tal is there to hug and comfort him. Tal is there to help him write down the details of his dreams. Tal is there to sooth him back to sleep and hold him until the sun rises.

Tal is there.

Zul wonders if this is what having a father feels like. He wonders if Tal would play catch with him, or teach him how to ride a raptor. 

He wonders if Tal knows how to make the spirits be quiet, and he wonders if Tal will ever teach him. 

The spirits are loud today.

It’s difficult to make out what they’re saying, but none of them sound happy. Zul tries to ask them what’s wrong, but they don’t listen. He tries to ask them to shut up, please, because their whispers are giving him a headache, but they still don’t listen.

Tal is busy with the king, so Zul complains to High Priest Tsu about his head. Tsu just yanks on Zul’s ear and sends him away to scrub the hallway floor.

Zul doesn’t like High Priest Tsu.

Miserable, Zul scrubs and scrubs and scrubs until his fingertips are shriveled and his hands are pink and raw and itchy, sticky with soap. He’s not even done with half the hallway, but the Priests don’t care that he’s small and he can’t work fast, so he keeps scrubbing.

Echoing through the halls, he can hear two familiar voices, and he peeks around the corner to watch. It’s High Priest Tsu again, and Rastakhan is with him. Tsu’s hand is on Rastakhan’s shoulder, and that makes Zul angry and nervous, but he isn’t sure why.

“This way, my prince,” Tsu instructs, steering Rastakhan around a sharp turn and disappearing from sight. As quietly as he can, Zul follows.

When he catches up with them again, Tsu’s hand is wrapped around Rastakhan’s wrist instead of on his shoulder. The other hand holds a key, shoving it in the lock of a door that everyone tells Zul to stay away from. He thinks it leads beneath Dazar’alor. Once, he found the door unlocked, and opened it just a crack to look inside; a bunch of spiders fell on him. He couldn’t sleep for weeks after that.

He can hear voices arguing, one angry, one frightened: “Father says I shouldn’t go here,” Rastakhan protests, and Tsu bares his teeth at him, pulling at his wrist harder.

“Since when do you care about what your father says?” Tsu hisses, “Today’s lesson is down this hall. Come with me.”

“But Father said-”

“Your father isn’t here right now!” he growls. “You will do as I say, or I’ll tell the king that you’ve been sneaking out again.”

Like being hit over the head with a book, Zul remembers the vision he had several nights ago all at once- the old priest, the dark and damp,  _ Rasta _ -

Zul runs.

The first guard that Zul finds doesn’t even twitch when Zul pulls at his skirt, trying to get his attention. “Please, help me.” The second ignores him too. “Please!” The third glances down at him, clearly annoyed, but Zul is too relieved that someone is paying attention to care. 

“Rast- Prince Rastakhan!” he tells the guard, still a little breathless from running down the hall.

“What about him?”

“Tsu- Tsu is- he’s -!”

The guard frowns and pokes Zul with the butt of his spear. “Spit it out!”

“Gonna hurt him, please, he’s gonna hurt him, you have to listen -!”

“Spirits,” the guard mutters, “If this is a joke I’ll have you whipped, you hear me? Go, I’ll follow.”

Zul sprints back in the direction he came, and the irritated guard jogs after him.

He comes back to the hallway where Tsu brought Rastakhan, and the strange door is closed. Zul points at it urgently. “In there!”

“You’re not supposed to be in there!”

“They went through there!”

Grumbling to himself, the guard unlocks the door, pulls the handle, and pauses when it won’t open. He pulls harder, and it stays closed. “That’s not good.”

Panicking, Zul points at the door again, “Hurry!”

“I’m trying, hold on-”

The guard tries the handle a few more times, and, with a grunt and the sound of rusty hinges squeaking, it opens. Zul runs down the dark hallway, ignoring the guard yelling after him, “Hey, kid! Wait! It’s not safe-”

There are so many hallways, twisting and turning, but Zul isn’t lost. He knows where to go: turn here, stop here, left, right, two lefts, down a flight of stairs (don’t slip, they’re wet), and he finally comes to a large, open room.

Rastakhan is there, in the center of the room-

With Tsu’s hand on his throat.

Frozen in fear, Zul can only watch the scene unfold:

“L-let go of me!” Rastakhan stammers, “My father will-”

Tsu laughs in the Prince’s face. “Your father doesn’t matter! None of us matter,  _ my Prince _ , don’t you see? We’re expendable! We’re  _ nothing! _ ”

(Expendable? What does that mean?)

“Stop, s-stop-”

“For  _ years _ and  _ years _ your family has ruled, and for  _ years _ and  _ years _ they treat us like  _ pawns _ \- like  _ animals _ , like, like- cannon fodder! We’re nothing to the King! We’re nothing to  _ you! _ Nothing but bodies to carry out your will!”

(But the King is good, isn’t he? He cares about everyone. That’s what Tal tells him, anyway. Tal wouldn’t lie to him. Right?)

“Let go,” Rastakhan pleads, “Can’t- breathe!”

“I’ve served your family all my life and  _ this _ is how I’m repaid? I gave  _ everything _ for the empire! I missed the birth of my daughter, I left her and my wife alone in their final moments because I was busy serving  _ your father _ . I work myself to death for  _ your father _ , trying to appease the Loa he refuses to care about! I watched my own brother  _ die _ at the hands of  _ your father! _ "

(Wife? Tsu had a wife? A brother? A  _ kid _ ? The King  _ killed _ them?)

“S-stop-”

“Your  _ dear father _ has ignored us for too long,” Tsu snarls at Rastakhan, as if it’s somehow his fault.

“Stop!”

“It’s long past time that this dynasty came to an end!” Tsu shouts, his shrill voice rising up into something between a hysterical laugh and a growl, raising a bright, shining piece of metal high and-

“Rasta!”

Tsu brings his hands down swift and sure, Zul can hear Rastakhan scream, but the scene doesn't play out like Zul’s vision: the guard that came with Zul grabs Tsu by the back of his robe, yanking him off of the prince and sending him sprawling; he stabs his spear into Tsu’s chest, pinning him to the floor. Tsu drops the knife, gasping; blood seeps between the neat stone bricks, dark red and shiny.

A small part of Zul, the part of him not currently stricken with terror, wonders if he'll have to scrub that.

The priest gurgles something that Zul doesn't hear, too focused on his friend, scrambling to Rastakhan's side.

The Prince is curled up on the ground, his hands pressed tightly over his face, bloody and shaking. Zul can hear him sniffling. Gently, he pulls at Rastakhan's wrist. The hand moves just enough for a Zul to catch a glimpse of a deep, weeping gash and a ruined eye.

Predictably, Zul screams.

Someone scoops him up off the ground, making room beside Rastakhan for a large, golden figure to take Zul’s place. He watches with wide eyes as the King- when did he get here?- pulls the terrified prince into his arms. “Rastakhan, move your hands- let me  _ see _ -” the King orders. Sobbing, Rastakhan doesn't comply until his hands, wet with blood and tears, are wrenched from his face.

As the Prince is rushed away in his father’s arms, Zul looks up to the troll clutching Zul to their chest like a child half his age, and sees that Prophet Tal- he isn't sure when he got here either- is holding him. Zul would object to being cradled, but it makes him feel safe. Tal’s face is pale, and he squeezes Zul uncomfortably tight. Zul grabs onto his robes and  _ clings _ .

“I'm sorry,” Zul whispers.

“No, no,” says Tal. “You- you did good.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. You did good, Zul.”

\---

Zul has never been this close to the King. The massive troll’s eyes are bright, and his teeth are sharp and white, and his nose is crooked.

“Little prophet,” he rumbles. “You saved my son's life. I owe you a great debt-” he pauses, and glances over Zul shoulder. Zul turns around in time to see Tal mouth something at him.

“I owe you a great debt, Zul,” the King continues. Zul stands very straight, and very still, and stares at his feet. There's a scratch on his left ankle. It itches. 

“You deserve to be rewarded for such heroism,” says the king. Prophet Tal coughs, and Zul recites his predetermined request:

“I don't want to scrub floors anymore.”

“Of course-”

“-And I want to see Rasta!”

Large and golden and terrifying, the King stares. It makes Zul uncomfortable.

“I mean- I want to see the Prince,” Zul amends.

After a moment, he adds a “Please.”

“You are very demanding, little prophet,” the King growls. Zul wonders if he is about to die. His rudimentary understanding of the spirit’s whispers don't warn him of danger, but it’s hard to tell.

“But I cannot fault your request,” he finishes. The force of Zul’s exhale almost knocks him over. “Come.”

\---

Rastakhan's bedroom just as fancy as the first time Zul entered it. A small heap huddles at the center of the huge bed. 

With a boost from Prophet Tal, Zul clambers up onto it. The prince rolls over when Zul touches his shoulder. Rastakhan’s left eye is bandaged, and his right is damp and puffy. 

Zul mushes their faces together, foreheads touching, noses squished uncomfortably. Rastakhan doesn't seem to mind, grabbing the front of Zul’s shirt and closing his eye. 

“Does it hurt?” Zul asks.

Sniffling, Rasta shakes his head. “No. I'm tough.”

Zul nods in agreement, and Rastakhan's ears wiggle proudly. 

(Wasn’t he going to ask Tal about something? It probably doesn’t matter. At least Rasta is okay.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i did make a whole oc with a backstory and a family and motives just to kill him off. yes every king of zuldazar is Corrupt but they dont talk abt that yknow how it is. yes zul is baby. aight thats how rasta got his scar, thats all folks!


End file.
